


With Only Strangers Watching

by rxcrcfllptrs



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Doctor Who AU, Multi, timelord gavin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-30
Updated: 2013-03-30
Packaged: 2017-12-07 00:49:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/742156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rxcrcfllptrs/pseuds/rxcrcfllptrs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“My name is Michael Vincent Jones. I fought the daleks, and I am human!” he bellows, as the door slowly opens. The entire asylum is under siege, and the Doctor won’t be able to save the life he promised to.</p>
<p>“Remember me, you clever boy. Run, and always remember.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Antebellum Innocence

**Author's Note:**

> (WARNING: Spoilers for the episode "Asylum of the Daleks", seeing as it is the episode itself except the characters are changed. If you don't want your experience of watching it marred by my horrid writing, feel free to watch the episode first before reading.)
> 
> Don't shoot me if you don't like it! This is the prequel, and I swear I love Geoff and Griffon's current married status. The next chapter will be posted within the week. You guys are the best, keep calm and ragehappy on, dears. xx

"YOU CAN'T BEAT WALL STREET! YOU CAN'T BEAT WALL STREET!" is what Geoff ferociously battlecries into the screen, with his character the Corpirate taking centre stage in the ring. In a fit of adrenaline, he throws the controller into his desk. Everyone else is congratulating everyone, so he throws in his own two cents. "That was a good game everybody." 

Just as Lindsay yells 'cut!' and turns to exit the room, someone opens to peek in at the door. "Geoff, your wife's here for you," Kara says, and the room's volume goes to almost silent, only the banter between Ray and Caleb audible. Geoff shoots him a look of confusion, before his face hardens when he stands up.

"I don't have a wife," he replies, following her brisk pace through the hall. "Not anymore."

"You still do, apparently," she replies, before leaving him in the entrance of Rooster Teeth, a blonde woman with many tattoos and piercings sitting on one of the sofas. She looks up at him.

"You have to sign these," she gestures at the papers, already a Griffon Ramsey signed in them. He takes the pen she offers her.

"And then we're not married?"

"Just like magic," her phrase starts the tense silence, where the only sound is the scratch of the pen and the sounds of his coworkers playing games from within the building.

"Can't talk, 'm workin'," he says, signing the space designated for his signature.

"Really? I thought you were just screaming at a TV screen," she snarks, snatching the papers from him when he's done, when he's just dawdling around to have a little more time around her.

He watches her leave, the quick-paced walk seeming like a stroll when he takes a moment to deliberate. "Griffon, I-"

She holds up her hand. "Save it," and slams the door.


	2. Armistice Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And after, like, three or four days of wait, it's the inevitable Doctor Who AU fic where Gavin is the Doctor! Honestly, you people should've expected it. There will not be a lot of Mavin action in this fic. Apologies for those who want their gay tap-dancing in front of their faces, you will need to either squint or get a pair of glasses for this'un. 
> 
> Anyway, it is a gift for the ragehappy fandom, seeing as I've gotten a good amount followers in the four months I've been here. This might or might not turn into a series, depending on Moffat's will. I've said this before and I'll say it again, this is the little fandom that could, and the little fandom that will continue on. Keep being awesome, ragehappies. xx
> 
> (And if you're wondering why this is a cheap rip-off of the episode, it's because I've always pictured Michael as Oswin. Or Donna, but that's a different story. I'll attempt to be more original next time.)

"Day 361. Hell continues its onslaught," a man narrates. In the confines of a small space, he stands in front of the sole entrance and exit. There are boards scattered around, a power drill in his hand. The passageway is an odd collage of metal and wood all drilled together. With the last screw driven into the board, he sighs, a little more certain that security is reliable. 

"That, and I made another batch of muffins today," he pauses. He remembers the odd lumps of coal that came out of the oven, what was once a good bowl of batter not more than twenty minutes before. "Tried to, at least.

"Defences are still pretty stable, but they keep coming at night. A guy can't get some good sleep around here, apparently," he looks back at the newly mended ingress, then remembers a reminder. "And it's mom's birthday today. Three years since he's last seen his son. Oh fuckin’ well. Happy birthday, mother. I made muffins, but I guess they were too pussy to live."

He sits on the worn couch backed up against the wall. The piece of furniture has survived a year of his temperance and physical violence. He hopes it can survive a few years more, when he lays down on it and hears a creak or two. He closes his eyes to catch a wink of sleep, but the mechanical voices are screeching through the walls. He will not let them enter, thank you very much.

Their voices grow higher, and he loses himself in the music, if only to keep the terrors away for one more hour, one more day. 

* * *

If the Doctor had a to-do list of some sort, helping the daleks was not one of them.

Though, with the technology they have where they can just transport him at will, helping them is more preferable than being killed by them. Not that he can’t devise a plan within the three second window they’ll give him to contemplate his last words. He might have his moments sometimes, but he isn’t stupid.

“WE HAVE ARRIVED,” one of the daleks announces.

“Arrived where?” the Doctor asks. There’s a low hum in the background that he can hear, some sort of machine starting up. Geoff and Griffon can’t hear it, as they bicker slightly in the background.

“The Prime Minister will speak to you now,” the girl says, showing a hand to the ramp.

He gives a stiff smile to the girl, discreetly talks to her. “Don’t you remember anything of your life before this?”

“They only reactivate my memories if it is needed for the task at hand,” she replies, staring directly at him.

“You were looking for your mother, she was trapped in a prison camp.”

“I know. I’ve read my file,” her voice drops in the second sentence, as if it were some sort of crime. She straightens up and shows him the way again.

There’s a few seconds of silence before the blob in the glass speaks. He internally grins at the title he’s given the prime minister of the daleks. _Me against a blob in a glass cylinder? Ha, that’ll be one for the books._

“WHAT DO YOU KNOW OF THE DALEK ASYLUM?” it asks. The Doctor straightens up, the memory of that godforsaken place coming to mind.

“Well, from what I’ve heard, you have a trash bin for all the daleks that go wrong. The battle-scarred, the insane, the ones even you can’t seem to get a handle on,” he replies, a tad bit smug in his smile. “Though, I don’t quite get why you still need an asylum,” he leans on the console, blinking his eyes owlishly, as if that could unnerve them.

“WHY NOT?” the prime minister interjects.

“I imagine that you could’ve just killed them, they are just hunks of metal taking up space,” he suggests.

“IT IS OFFENSIVE TO DESTROY SUCH DIVINE HATRED,” they reply. The Doctor’s eyebrow quirks upward. “Offensive, really? I’d think the world was better off without ‘divine hatred’.”

“DOES IT SURPRISE YOU, THAT DALEKS HAVE A CONCEPT OF BEAUTY?” the Doctor mutters under his breath ‘concept of ugly more like’. “MAYBE THAT IS THE REASON WHY WE ALWAYS FAIL TO KILL YOU.”

He doesn’t dignify that with a response, instead turns around. A small hole has opened up in the centre of the room. Geoff, Griffon, and the dalek girl are all around it now, and he wants in on what this thing is.

“The asylum occupies the entire planet,” the dalek girl starts. “Down to the core,” she taps her foot twice on the floor to emphasise the fact.

“How many daleks could be in there?” he asks. She shrugs.

“A count has not been made. Millions, in the least.”

“And are they still alive?”

“We should assume, yes. The entire planet is fully automated, supervision is no longer required.”

“Armed?” Griffon asks, the girl looks at her.

“Daleks are always armed.”

“What colour?” Geoff looks at the planet for a moment, before looking back at all of them. “What? You took the good questions.”

The console up front is making sound, which the dalek girl interprets. “This signal is being received from the very heart of the asylum.”

Suddenly, the entire space ship is engulfed by the sound of fast paced beats and a honkytonk piano.

_"I’m the new cancer, never looked better, you can’t stand it-"_

“WHAT IS THIS NOISE? EXPLAIN. EXPLAIN,” the dalek at the controls screeches above the din.

“It’s ah, uh… me,” the Doctor says cheerfully. “Playing the tambourine. I might’ve gotten lost in that mix, though.”

“Didn’t know you were into Panic!, doc,” Geoff remarks, as the Doctor taps his foot to the beat.

“Why not? They’re an excellent band,” he takes out his sonic screwdriver to examine the console playing the music. “Someone’s transmitting this,” he looks to the triad of daleks looking at him. “Why couldn’t you have just followed the signal and talked to them? I’m sure they’ll want the company.”

They look on silently. “He asks the daleks,” he says to himself, doing what he just said to them.

“Hello? Can you come in Urie, hello?”

* * *

Somewhere in the deepest part of the asylum, a man turns to the sound. “Hello?”

“Hello? Come in Urie! Come in, come in!” the voice says. He sounds urgent, so the man wastes no time in stumbling into his own console. A mishmash of keyboards and wires, and a circular display for the outside world.

“Oh shit, yes! I’m here! I’m here!” he exclaims excitedly. “Do you read me?” he asks after pushing a button.

“Yes, I read you loud and clear!” the voice says. “Identify yourself and report your status.”

The man takes a moment to deliberate. What if this isn’t real? What if he’s finally snapped from the entire year of isolation? “Hang on, let me just… are you real? Not from the deep recesses in my head real?” He sounds ridiculous, but it’s a way to try.

“Yes, actually really not from the deep recesses of your head real,” he can hear a teasing tone in the voice, but is too excited at the prospect of rescue to care.

“Michael Vincent Jones, Junior Entertainment Manager at the Starship Achievement. Current status,” he looks around. “Crashed, the rest of the crew is missing – most likely dead – but the provisions are good. Been here a year.”

“A year? Did you kill off all your crew to steal their provisions? Are you under attack?”

“By some of the local life forms, yeah. I’ve been keeping them out pretty well,” Vincent crosses his arms. “Daleks, a lot of them.”

“And what have you been doing against the lot of them?” the voice asks. He hesitates to answer.

“Trying my hand at baking muffins?” he says, diffident. He hears a snort on the other line.

“Muffins against daleks. Alright then,” he sits down on the chair in front of the console, before the voice speaks up again. “Where’d you get the milk?”

He opens his mouth to answer, before a louder, mechanical voice overtakes the line. “THIS CONVERSATION IS IRRELEVANT.”

And the line is filled with static. The curly-haired man tries in vain to bring back the connection, but there is nothing.

“Well, fuck.”

* * *

“-And if someone could get in, then everything can get out. A whole fleet of insane daleks, even you don’t want that,” the Doctor says, frustrated.

“THE ASYLUM MUST BE CLEANSED.”

“So why is it still here? You have enough power to blast it out of space!”

The girl behind him speaks up. “The asylum’s force field is impenetrable, and it can only be turned off from the inside.”

The Doctor turns to her for a moment. “A squad of daleks could sneak past that force field, turn it off,” he walks back down the ramp, to the hole that is displaying their destination. It takes a moment before he realises. “Oh.”

“So you’re all scared to go. Not even one of you would volunteer for the task of,” he waves a hand. “Trash disposal.” He walks up to one of the dalek leaders. “So tell me, what do daleks do when they’re too afraid to take out the trash?”

“THE PREDATOR OF THE DALEKS WILL BE DEPLOYED,” again, his forehead creases.

“Daleks don’t have predators. Even if you did have one, why would they help you?” he asks.

Somehow, he hears a smug tone when the Prime Minister speaks, monotonic screech and all. “BECAUSE YOU WILL HAVE NO OTHER MEANS OF ESCAPE.”

The girl sneaks up behind him. “If I may clarify, when the daleks say predator, they refer to you.”

“Me?!” the Doctor exclaims, as he is being dragged forcefully down the ramp again. There’s a band strapped on his wrist now, the ominous glow of a dalek eyepiece serving as the watch head.

“You will need this to protect you from the nanocloud,” she explains.

“Nanocloud- what nanocloud?” he asks, but is ignored by the girl. A beam transmits from somewhere in the reaches of the ship into the planet below.

“A gravity beam will convey you close to the source of transmission. You must find a way to shut down the force field from there,” she debriefs them of the situation, as he is dragged very near the beam.

“You’re going to fire me at a planet?” he asks, incredulous. “That’s your plan? I’m fired at a planet, then expected to fix it?!”

Geoff side-eyes him. “To be fair, doc, that is usually your MO.”

The Doctor looks at him strangely. “Don’t be fair to the daleks when they’re going to fire me at a planet- what are you doing to them?” he asks, when he sees that his companions are being strapped with the same kind of gear as he.

“IT IS KNOWN THAT THE DOCTOR REQUIRES COMPANIONS.”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Geoff mutters, as Griffon struggles against a grip of another dalek puppet manhandling her.

“Are you being bloody serious right now- oi!” the Doctor exclaims when he is pushed into the beam, as well as Geoff and Griffon.

* * *

When the Doctor wakes up, it’s to the sound of more Panic! At the Disco, played through a dalek eyestalk peeping out of the snow-covered ground. When he looks up at it, the sound stops, and instead a voice replaces it.

“Sorry! Pressed the wrong button,” the voice from the console sounds tinnier. _Well, it is being transmitted from an eyestalk_.

“Muffin man?” the Doctor asks, and he can hear a scoff on the other line.

“Great name,” the voice says, sarcastic. “Muffin man, really?”

“Well you’re a man that seems to be baking muffins even if you’re in isolation because of daleks!” the Doctor retorts, pushing himself closer into the camera.

“Nice face. You could always call me Vincent, seeing as that is my name, did the snow break your fall?” the voice, Vincent, says.

“How are you doing that?” the Doctor asks, poking at the camera. “This is dalek tech, pretty sure that isn’t simple to hack into.”

There’s a second of silence, as if Vincent was shrugging. “You’re wrong on that, guy. It’s pretty easy to hack into.”

The Doctor raises an eyebrow. “No it isn’t,” he says as a final word to that argument. “Where are you?” he asks as he’s sonicing the eyestalk.

“Buried under the ground, after the ship hit. Why? You coming to get me?” the voice asks, half challenging but half hopeful.

“Doctor!” Griffon shouts from behind him, as the eyestalk seems to be losing energy. He taps the camera again with his screwdriver.

“Muffin man! Oi! Come back!” he says, as if that could bring back the voice- Vincent. Realising that that was in vain, he pushes himself off the ground, helping Griffon from toppling into the snow. There’s another person with her, but why and how could someone survive for so long without help?

“Where’s Geoff?” he asks her, but she’s panting and can’t seem to respond. The man with her answers.

“There was another beam, right over there,” the man points. They scramble over to the direction he points, ignoring the question of whether or not they were the rescue team.

They come across a hole in the ground, deep enough to seem endless. Griffon looks at the Doctor, and peers into the hole worriedly.

* * *

“Aren’t you going to introduce us to your crew?” the Doctor asks, straightening out his jacket after his feet lands on solid metal.

“Oh right, guys, this is the Doctor, and Griffon,” the man, Kerry, gestures. The Doctor salutes as a way of introduction, but there doesn’t seem to be a response from the crew. “Guys?”

Without hesitation, the Doctor whips out his sonic screwdriver, inspecting the one nearest to them. Fearing the worst when he’s read it, he pulls off the hood of one of the jackets. Instead of someone sleeping, or of a metal face, he is instead confronted with a skull, the dried skin clinging on to bone. He grimaces, then looks back to Kerry.

“That’s impossible, they can’t be dead,” he cries. “We were just talking about fixing the ship two hours ago!”

“That doesn’t look like something that could happen in two hours,” Griffon says, after inspecting one of the bodies. They don’t notice, but Kerry’s body freezes up, and then his head hangs on his chest, staring at an empty space in front of him.

“Oh right, how could I forget?” the voice drops low, devoid of any emotion. “I died repairing the engines outside. The snow must’ve preserved my body,” at the last word, an eyestalk appears from his forehead. “It’s easy to forget, dying.”

Thinking quickly, the Doctor reaches for the nearest object – a fire extinguisher – and releases its contents just as the dalek puppet approaches him. “Griffon, get the door!” He pushes him into one of the open hallways, Griffon’s hand at the switch to shut it close. 

“Explanation, please,” she commands, voice plain but definitely a twinge of panic in her words.

He raises his wrist. “He wasn’t wearing one of these,” he says, as he’s imagining what could possibly have triggered such a transformation. “That’s top!”

“Turning into a dalek puppet? I don’t think so. Spit it out, Doc,” she replies, massaging a temple with her fingers.

He starts pacing in the empty space. “That was the nanocloud that girl was talking about earlier. It processes any organic matter – living or dead -  that comes into the planet, turning it into a dalek puppet itself. If anything tries attacking this planet, they turn into part of the security system. Genius, really.”

“Living or dead?” she echoes, stiffening at the phrase.

“They gave us these wristbands to protect us from it. Wouldn’t want a temperamental blonde and a madman turn into-“

“Doc, shut it for a sec,” she interrupts his ramble. “Living or dead organic matter?”

“Yeah! Living or…” he realises a half second as the skeletons in the room come to life. “Dead,” he looks at her. “Griffon, we ought to run.”

With nowhere else to go in their side, the Doctor makes a quick path by smashing his foot into the skulls, Griffon following suit. However, the dead are already dead, and they reanimate when they’re down. She screams when one of them has caught her wrist, pulling her back into the room when they’ve already found another method of escape.

The door shuts with a hiss, and they’re both coming down from the adrenaline rush. “No wonder Geoff misses this so much,” she sighs, leaning her head up the door.

“Yeah, but you shouldn’t follow your husband’s footsteps,” he grins.

“Unauthorised personnel may not enter the cockpit,” a voice interjects in their conversation.

“Oh sod off, you,” the Doctor lunges forward at the familiar sound, looking into another active dalek eyestalk, glowing blue amidst the darkness of the room.

“Chill out, grumpy pants. No sense of humour in that nose?” Vincent snorts.

“Is that him again, the muffin man?” Griffon approaches the camera, though the Doctor is taking up most of its field of vision.

“Yeah. And there is nothing wrong with my nose!” he protests, rubbing his palm over the mentioned body part.

“Careful, you might poke someone’s eye out,” the Doctor glares at Griffon for a moment before looking back at the eyepiece. “I’m scanning you. You’re in another escape pod from the Achievement, the ship I was on.”

“How can you do that? It should be impossible to hack into advanced dalek technology, especially from a crashed ship!”

“That’s… a long story. Is there a word for total fucking genius that’s still modest and a bit sexy?”

“Doctor,” he takes the chance when he sees it. “You can call me the Doctor.”

“I was talking about me, asshole,” something beeps from the line. “There’s a breach on the floor, there could be a way to get out. In. Whatever. I’ll see you two later.”

“Aha!” the Doctor exclaims, discovering a hatch. “Someone’s used this already, had to lock it behind them. Buried underground, so it should get us straight into the asylum.”

“That’s just great news,” she says sarcastically, crouching to get near it. The Doctor absently starts unscrewing the bolts with his screwdriver as he’s making conversation.

“So, your marriage with Geoff,” he grunts at one stubborn screw. “Anything you could tell me about it?”

“Are we seriously going to have this conversation now?”

“Well, we can’t have it when we're exterminated, so yeah. What happened?”

She sighs, mutters “I’m not even your companion, Geoff just dragged me along for this.” She shakes her head and loudens her voice to a volume more audible. “We split up, what can you do?”

He looks at her with that look, one that screams he’s up to something. She sizes him up and glares icily. “That was a rhetorical question, there’s nothing you can do,” he’s silent but still looking at her. “Don’t look at me like that. You can’t fix everything, contrary to belief. This is how life works, especially when you aren’t around.”

He tears his gaze and gives one final push, the hatch opens. “Someone did come out this way, then.”

A ruckus in the screen beside the door they came in in grabs the Doctor’s attention. “What do we have here, then?” the screen shows a black and white video of the skeletal dalek puppets, the one up front holding a wristband just like they have. “Where’d they get that?”

Griffon’s hand flies to her wrist. It’s devoid of her own wristband.

* * *

When Geoff wakes up, it’s because some sort of green goo drips on to his face. He unconsciously wipes it off before opening his eyes. The dripping water rushes in the background when he stands up. He freezes when he realises where he is. 

Daleks scatter the room. Although their eyepieces aren’t glowing blue, he’s pretty damn sure they could wake up at any moment. But he could be wrong. He walks up to one of them, and pushes it backwards. It rolls like anything that has wheels underneath it, and he sighs with relief.

But, like any idiot from Rooster Teeth, he takes it one step further. In a fit of curiosity, he pushes the eyestalk into another direction, twisting its head the other way. For a few seconds, it does nothing, but then it twists back into its original position. If Geoff was an anime character then, a large sweat drop would have appeared on the side of his head.

“Oh shit…” he whispers, backing away slowly. Maybe he’ll get out of here unscathed, maybe he’ll still live to see fifty, maybe-

The loud clattering of iron screws rings out in the room. Along with it exits his plans to live ‘til sixty, when the blue light in the dalek slowly lights up. When he looks around, the other daleks are waking up as well. _Shitshitshitshit, this is not good. This is really really not good._

“E-E-E-E-E-EGGS,” the dalek says. Geoff backs away slowly, unsure of what this thing wants with him.

“What?”  he asks, knowing that these machines could understand him.

“E-E-E-E-E-EGGS.”

“I, well, I don’t really know what you want. Are those- uh, eggs?” he points to the metal balls on the floor. He doesn’t know how daleks multiply, and he frankly does not want to ever, but he picks up one of the balls. “Did you want it?” he offers it to the dalek.

“EX… TER… MIN…”

“Oh-oh god,” Geoff’s voice squeaks out. In fright, he drops the ball, backing further into it. They’re all chanting the word now, and he narrowly dodges an energy beam fired his way.

Quickly, he dodges the energy beams, the sound of their screeching pounding in his head. _Shouldn’t have had those beers._ He thinks, rolling to avoid another beam. His next attempt doesn’t improve, and instead it grazes his arm. “Shit.”

A voice pops out from the once-inactive speakers. “Run! The door at the end is open! They’re still slow, run for it now!”

He slides before the door closes, and Geoff breathes a sigh of relief. “Thank Christ.” He rests on the wall, relaxing for a moment before he’s shocked out of his stupor by the same voice.

“My name’s Vincent, and yours, old man?” Vincent says, and Geoff takes a moment to breathe.

“I am not old,” he replies, trying to remember what he’s supposed to say. “Uhhh, fuck. Forgot my name. Geoff. My name’s Geoff.”

“Great name, Geoff,” he can hear slurping from the link, and he can go for something alcoholic right now. “First guy I dated was named Geoff- well, no, his name was Miles. You aren’t even my type. I’m not really good at this whole morale raising thing.”

Not more than a few minutes after, an explosion rattles his head. “What was that? It was way too close. Vincent? Vincent? Can you tell me where that came from?”

There’s nothing coming in from the omnipresent voice, so he takes matters to his own hands. Through empty hallways, he encounters a room filled with daleks. Some are melted, some are pieces of shrapnel scattered everywhere, and some are lit on fire. Someone enters, carrying someone in his or her arms. He recognises them, the Doctor and his wife.

“Who killed them?” Geoff asks.

“Who do you think?”

* * *

“Will sleeping slow down the process?” he asks, as the Doctor lays Griffon’s prone body on the circular platform.

“You better hope so,” Vincent interjects. “She’ll turn all psycho and try kill you all pretty soon.”

Their attention is averted back to Griffon when she starts moving again, groaning about the pain in her head.

“Stay with us, Griffon,” the Doctor says.

“It’s me, Geoff. You can still remember me, right?” he asks, and a very firm hand meets his face. “Ow!” he holds his cheek. “She definitely remembers me.”

The Doctor grins. “Still good old Griffon.”

“Do you know how someone’s turned into a dalek?” Vincent asks, voice solemn. “Replace love with anger. Doesn’t she seem too angry to you?”

“You clearly haven’t had to handle a band of idiots like your husband,” Griffon retorts, putting a hand on her head. The Doctor stands abruptly, already starting to pace around the room.

“So what about you, Vincent? How come you aren’t a dalek puppet yet?” he asks, coming close to another camera in the room.

“We talked about this earlier, right? I’m a genius and blah blah blah. It’s shielded in here, so you know.”

“Good for you. Now, about this place – they said it’s fully automated, but it’s a total wreck. Did you have a lot of fun messing around with them?” The Doctor asks, dropping down the platform to look directly into the camera.

“Too much fun, actually. You don’t get much entertainment value out of making muffins and listening to an outdated playlist all the time.”

“Right – speaking about the muffins, where did you get the milk and eggs for it?” the Doctor looks at his companions. “Seriously, does no one else find that odd?”

“Jesus dicks, dude,” Geoff massages the bridge of his nose. “My wife is turning into a dalek puppet and all you’re thinking about is milk and eggs? No. No one else cares to find that odd.”

“Well, lack of caring aside, I’ve been looking you up on the dalek database, doc,” Vincent says. “You’re all over it like white on bread, any particular reason why they call you the predator? You don’t look like someone who eats metal and hatred in the morning.”

“I’m not a predator!” the Doctor objects. “But I am a man with a plan.”

“A plan?” Vincent echoes.

“We’re all ears!” Geoff says, slightly exasperated.

“There’s a nose joke there, if anyone wants to pick that off,” Griffon mumbles in her delirium.

The Doctor claps his hands and walks over to the couple. “Well, in no particular order, we have to…” he elongates the syllable, putting up a finger for each objective. “Neutralise all the daleks in this asylum, rescue Vincent, get off this planet, and rescue Geoff and Griffon’s marriage.”

After a few seconds of silence, Griffon speaks up. “I’m counting three lost causes, anyone else?” In frustration, Geoff stands up and walks off the platform, a little further away from Griffon now.

“So, there’s a dalek ship orbiting the planet right now,” the Doctor says, getting into the mood of plan making. It’s one of those times when Geoff’s faith in the Doctor truly shows. Because despite all their bickering and arguments about what goes where, he knows that the timelord has enough insight from both the past and the near future to know what to do.

“I know. It’s reading loud and clear on my monitors,” Vincent replies.

“This place has an impenetrable force field. The daleks up there are waiting for me to turn it off, and when I do, they’ll burn this planet and us with it,” he claps his hands. “So, how fast can you drop the field from where you are?”

The couple looks at him for a few moments. “Pretty quick. Why would I?”

“Because,” the Doctor hops on to the circular platform, crouching to get near the circuits in the middle. “This is a teleport, am I right?”

“You won’t get very far out of the planet with it, but yes.”

“I can boost the power,” he sonics the wirings. “And it can beam us right off the planet.”

“Beam us where?” Geoff asks.

“The only place we can, the dalek ship,” the Doctor replies. 

“They’ll exterminate us on the spot,” Griffon reminds him.

“Is this another one of those escape plans where we survive for another five seconds?” Geoff asks.

“Oh Geoffrey,” the Doctor slaps his companion’s cheek. “You should know by now, you can do a ton in five seconds. Vincent!” he calls the trapped Junior Entertainment Manager. “How fast can you drop the field again?”

“I can do it from here. Come and get me first.”

The Doctor stands. “No, drop the force field and come to us.”

“There’s enough power in that thing for one go, why would you need to wait for me?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“You tell me, genius. I’m sending you a map now.”

The Doctor comes up to the screen, a map indeed showing on it.

“I think we missed the fact that this place is, I don’t know, crawling with daleks, maybe?” Geoff says, a little more than just startled by the fact.

“Which is why you should probably come and get me from here, too, Geoffrey,” Vincent says, sarcastic.

“So are we going to go get him?” Geoff asks the Doctor, who is apparently trying to memorise the map.

“Better than leaving him there to die,” the Doctor hands him a remote. “When the force field drops, the daleks will attack. If it gets too, well, explodey-wodey here, you can go on without me.”

“And leave you here to die?”

The Doctor drops to below the platform to connect sonic some more of the wires. “Why are you worrying about me? You’ll be the ones teleporting to a dalek ship to get exterminated.”

“Fair enough,” Geoff shrugs. “Such a solid plan. What about Griffon?”

“Keep her remembering, hold back the conversion with her focus.”

“What do I do?” Griffon asks, lying back down on the teleportation platform.

“You heard what he said. They’re replacing love with anger. Don’t let them.”

* * *

After a few minutes of pacing, waiting for the Doctor to come back, Geoff stops. “Okay. Griffon, look at me,” at the sound of her name, she sits up, staring intently at him. “For once, I’ll be logical. Cold and logical, okay?” he walks toward her. “For both our sakes, I’ll take this off my wrist and put it on yours,” he says, starting to unfasten his wristband.

Griffon starts backing away. “Why? It’ll just start the conversion on you. That’s not going to save us.”

“Yeah, but it’ll buy us some time. It’ll take longer with me,” he gestures to himself.

“What are you talking about?” she asks, eyes narrowing.

“It subtracts love, doesn’t it?”

“So what does that have to do with it?”

“It’s simple math, because… it’ll take longer with me,” he crouches to face her. “Griffon, we both know that I love you more than you love me,” at her incredulous look, he talks quickly to explain. “It’s good news today, isn’t it? It’ll save both of our lives.”

“How can you say that?” she asks, voice absolutely betrayed.

“I waited for you,” he stands. “For two thousand years as a fucking plastic warrior, you were trapped inside a box and I had to wait for you until you could get out. I’m saying this because we both know it’s true, it’s happened, so give me your goddamn arm.”

Griffon slaps him, the smack resounding in the room.

“Don’t you dare tell me that, don’t you ever,” her eyes are fierce, as tears are threatening to burst from them.

“You kicked me out of the house!”

“And you said you wanted kids!” she cries tearfully. “You always wanted kids. I couldn’t have them. I’ve had this condition, even before I met you. It couldn’t ever let me give you children,” Geoff is stunned into silence. “I didn’t kick you out, I gave you up.”

“Griffon, I didn’t…”

“Don’t you fucking dare talk to me about waiting outside a box, Geoff. Nothing,” she stands. “Nothing can ever compare to having to give you up!”

“Just… just give me your arm,” he falters.

“No, don’t touch me!”

“Just give me your arm!”

“DON’T TOUCH ME!”

And in that moment, Geoff realised something else. Instead of bare skin, his hand met cold metal. They both look down; a wristband is now enveloping her wrist. “The Doctor,” Geoff realises. “He put this on your wrist before he left.”

She turns to hide her watery eyes. The man thinks he can rescue everything, even relationships that should have come to an end. “He probably doesn’t even need it,” she says, a tear falling down her cheek.

* * *

Somewhere, the Doctor is walking through derelict hallways, rust caking the walls. He straightens his bowtie every now and then. “Vincent,” he breathes. “I think I’m close.”

“Yep, you definitely are,” the voice responds. “Twenty feet away from me, in fact.” There’s a pause before he speaks again. “That’s the good news.”

“And the bad news?”

“You’re passing through the ICU.”

The room is filled with cells, stalls, of inactive daleks. Some have cracks in their domes, some are swathed with cobwebs, but all are chained to their place. “What’s so special about this lot, then?”

“No idea. They’re survivors of particular wars. Spiridon, Kembel, Aridius, Vulcan, and Exxilon. Do any of them ring any bells?”

“Yup, all of them,” he whispers, walking slowly through the hall.

“Really now. How?” the Doctor walks until he’s in front of one.

“These are the ones that survived me.”

Slowly, the daleks wake up, eyepieces glowing blue and chanting the same word over and over. “DOC-TOR. DOC-TOR. DOC-TOR.”

“That’s- that’s weird. These ones don’t wake up for anything.”

“Special visitor,” he says quickly, before running to the other end of the hall. “If you can manage to open this up, I’m sure you’ll be on the other side.”

“Hang on, there’s a special release code for this door,” Vincent says, voice trying. “Is there anything happening out there?”

“No, not yet, but I’d appreciate it if you hurried up!”

“Quiet, you. I’m trying a thing.”

“Well that’s bloody brilliant, isn’t it? I’m about to be advanced by daleks from all sides and you’re there trying a thing!”

They’re getting nearer to him, and the Doctor’s hearts leap to his throat. “Vincent, you need to open this door, right now!”

“DOCTOR. DOCTOR. DOCTOR. DOCTOR.”

“I can’t!” in the two words, the Doctor’s blood runs cold. The man who could, now can’t? He presses his back against the door.

“VINCENT! OPEN THIS GODDAMN DOOR!”  He shouts over the loudening screeches of the daleks.

“DOCTOR. DOCTOR. DOCTOR. DOCTOR. DOCTOR-“ when they’re mere centimetres from his face, they suddenly stop. They turn away from him, as if he was something irrelevant detected by their systems.

There’s a moment of silence before Vincent speaks up again.

“Oh, that is really cool. Tell me I’m awesome, Pinocchio,” the Doctor again rubs his nose.

“There is nothing wrong with my nose,” he mutters. “What did you do?”

“Hang on, I’m looking for the passcode.”

“No, you have to tell me what you did!”

“Alright, jeez. Hold your horses. You know the daleks have this sort of Hive mind, right? Telepathic web?”

“Yeah, the Path Web.”

“Well, I hacked into it. Deleted a master delete on all the files that had anything to do with you.”

“You wiped them from their memory banks?” he asks, surprised at the ingenuity of this man.

“Pretty much. Don’t tell me that’s not fuckin’ fantastic,” he hears the cracking of knuckles from the other line. Must’ve taken more than just a few lines of codes to get into such an elaborate maze.

“I’ve tried hacking into the Path Web, it’s impossible. Even I couldn’t do it.”

“Oh really? Come and meet the man who can,” and the door hisses open.

The Doctor’s eyes widen in shock.

* * *

Vincent can see him face to face now. Well, nearly. His face is right in front of the camera he uses to see the outside. “You’re outside, come right in!” he says excitedly, wiping the dust off the suitcase he never unpacked, full of the clothes and trivial belongings he brought with every trip.

“Vincent, we have a problem.”

He drops his suitcase onto the console’s seat. “Don’t say that, after all the shit you’ve had to go through to get here,” he looks for any other belongings that could be of use to him when he leaves. “I signed up for the starship because I wanted to see the stars, explore outer space. Through bad luck, I got shipwrecked the first time I got out,” he walks up to his console, beer can in hand. “Are you here to rescue me now and show me the stars?” he asks, sarcastic.

The Doctor is silent, and it doesn’t ease the worry settling in the shipwrecked genius. “Does it look real to you?”

“I don’t understand. What?”

“Where you are right now, does it look real?”

“It is real, what the fuck are you talking about? Are you blind?”

“It’s a dream, Vincent. The room you’re in is something you dreamed up,” the Doctor pauses to wet his lips. “Because the truth was so terrible, you couldn’t handle it.” 

“Where am I?” he asks quietly now, too scared to know but has the aching need to pressed up his ribcage, beating a thousand miles an hour.

* * *

“WHERE. AM. I?” the dalek asks.

“You’re a dalek,” the Doctor answers, fists clenched and feeling betrayed.

“I AM NOT A DALEK. I AM NOT A DALEK!” it denies aggressively. “I AM A HUMAN.”

The Doctor approaches the motionless robot, bound with chains. “You were a human, when you arrived here a year ago. That ladder – it was yours, and you climbed out.”

* * *

_Suddenly, the memories flash by him. The long ladder he’s had to climb downwards, into the asylum and into the daleks’ waiting hands. “Where am I?”_

* * *

“I’M HUMAN,” it says, as the Doctor peers into the casing.

“Not anymore. Because you’re right. You are a genius. The daleks need a genius. They didn’t just make you into their puppet, they did the full conversion.”

* * *

_“Where am I?! Where am I?!” he shouts, pinned against the frozen wall, lights of blue dancing around in his haze._

* * *

“Vincent, I am sorry,” he walks to the door, turns to face it. “But you are a dalek.”

“The muffins, Vincent,” he reminds. “Where could you have ever gotten the milk and the eggs for it?”

* * *

_“I am a human,” he says shakily, coils of wire being wrapped around him – on his body, on his legs, on his head.  “I am not a DALEK I AM HUMAN I AM NOT DALEK-”_

_“I AM A HUMAN!”_

* * *

“EGGS.”

“They weren’t real. They were never real.”

* * *

_“I AM A DALEK! I AM A DALEK!”_

* * *

“EGGS-"

"TER-"

"MIN-"

"ATE,” the gun whirrs to life, and it points to the Doctor. “EX-TER-MI-NATE.” 

“Vincent?” the Doctor yelps. “Oh no no no, Vincent!” he exclaims, jumping back as the dalek fights the chains until it eventually breaks free. “Listen! Listen to me Vincent!” he says in a desperate try for diplomacy.

“EXTERMINATE! EXTERMINATE! EXTERMINAAAAAATE!” it trails off, and it leaves the Doctor again pressed up against a wall, a dalek ready to fire in front of him.

The word cuts off, and a strangled cry comes from it.

* * *

He’s pressed up against the boarded entrance, sitting on the ground, reddened eyes and cheeks slicked with tears.

* * *

“WHY DO THEY HATE YOU SO MUCH?” it asks. “THEY HATE YOU, SO MUCH. WHY?”

“I fought them. So many times, in so many forms.”

“WE HAVE GROWN STRONGER IN FEAR OF YOU,” the accusation hurts, but it is only the truth.

“I know. Believe me, I’ve tried to stop for so long.”

* * *

He wipes his tears and stands up. “Then run.”

* * *

The Doctor looks up. “What did you say?”

* * *

“I’ve taken down the force field-“

* * *

“-THE DALEKS ARE STARTING TO ATTACK.”

“Vincent, I-“

* * *

“My name is Michael Vincent Jones. I fought the daleks, and I am-“

* * *

“HUMAN! REMEMBER ME,” it bellows, as the door slowly opens. The entire asylum is under siege, and the Doctor won’t be able to save the life he promised to.

“Thank you. Thank you so much-“

“RUN!”

Explosions are heard everywhere, the Doctor looks up, then turns to run.

He doesn’t look back.

* * *

“Remember me, you clever boy. Run, and always remember.” 

* * *

“How long can we wait?” Geoff asks, cradling the large control as shockwaves come from all sides. He looks at Griffon, who is grinning.

“The rest of our lives,” she smirks. His ‘oh fuck yes’ is lost from his lips, when she presses hers against them... And then the Doctor comes out from one of the entrances.

“Oh god, not this again!” the timelord says when he encounters again his companions in liplock. “Right, we’re good now! Explosions everywhere and you’re kissing! We have to go, for god’s sake!”

He takes the controls from Geoff, and they teleport out of the planet just in time.

* * *

“THE ASYLUM IS DESTROYED,” the dalek supreme announces.

“INCOMING TELEPORT FROM THE ASYLUM. WE ARE UNDER ATTACK,” a dalek says.

“WE ARE UNDER ATTACK! DEFEND. DEFEND,” the dalek supreme commands, and all daleks in the parliament ready to fire.

“You know, you really should’ve seen this coming,” a voice from seemingly nowhere says. “Because the thing is with me and teleportation – it’s that I’ve got a really good aim. In other words-“ a blue telephone box materialises in the centre of the ship, and a man peeks out. “Suckers!”

“IDENTIFY YOURSELF! IDENTIFY! IDENTIFY!” a dalek says, rolling up to the Doctor.

“You haven't forgotten about me me, have you?” he asks in mock surprise. “The Oncoming Storm, the predator? The Doctor?”

The dalek girl walks down from the ramp. “Titles are not meaningful in this context. Doctor who?” 

“DOCTOR WHO?” asks the Dalek Supreme.

“DOCTOR WHO?” asks the Prime Minister.

And all the daleks ask. “DOCTOR WHO? DOCTOR WHO?”

“Oh, he did it. Vincent definitely did it,” the Doctor says to himself, grinning giddily at the questioning hunks of metal. He steps back into the TARDIS, and says a few last words.

“You guys will never stop asking,” he grins, and closes the door. The telephone box dematerialises from the ship.

* * *

Geoff and Griffon wave goodbye from the entrance of the Rooster Teeth headquarters, matching smiles on their faces. The TARDIS dematerialises, leaving them to look at each other then enter the building once again.

“Hey Burnie?” Griffon calls out, walking into the room hand-in-hand with her husband. “I’m here to take up my previous position.”

* * *

In the TARDIS, the Doctor stands proudly. “Doctor who indeed,” he grins, fixing his jacket, walking down the stairs. “Doctor who!” he flips a switch, and dances around the console.

“Doc-“ he pulls a lever.

“Tor-“ he presses a button. 

“WHO?” he shouts.

And he’s off on another adventure once more.


End file.
